Ruins of Me
by Kyrieath
Summary: The title is subject to change. AU-Ivan unexpectedly extends an invitation to Gilbert to come see Kaliningrad for himself. Wanting to see what has befallen Königsberg, Gilbert warily accepts. Rating is for: Language, racism and mind games. No Romance!
1. Chapter 1

Author: Cyhirae

Note: So what do you get when you give me a CD that's half Arkona, half Oomph and one misplaced Sonata Arctica track "Ruins of My Life" to listen to while she does housework after a night discussing fun (evil) things that could be done to Hetalia characters in a more serious setting with her partner in crime? -Well lots of things, but this fic is one of them. It's a spin off/AU of an idea we'd had to use elsewhere in another format. Rating is for Gilbert's mouth and 'imaginary' violence. And angst. It's Gilbert going to Kaliningrad. _Lots_ of angst in the beginning, and apologies ahead of time to anyone Russian or of Russian ancestry; having Gilbert think nice thoughts about Russia and its inhabitants at the start would be highly out of character.

This starts off first person in the first chapter, shifts into stream of consciousness in the second, and then back again to first in the final chapter. Human names are mostly used; country names only for effect.

Disclaimer: Yeah, Hetalia still isn't mine and never will be; not even the idea fully is (Hi Lumineux! XD) just the words on this page are. I'm sure the characters are delighted about that.

This will be a three parter. Title is subject to change if I think of a better one; I'll take suggestions!

* * *

I really shouldn't have bothered to take that bastard's offer. I was standing out here, in the middle of Königsberg- damned if I was calling it Kaliningrad! - in the middle of the night, looking at what that baby faced psychopath did to my home.

No, it wasn't bad enough he'd shelled the actual city to the point there wasn't hardly anything left of it beyond a few still standing structures. He had gone told them to build another city over it; keeping the structures that survived…and then forced every last Prussian and German out, one way or the other.

I'm in the heart of what used to the cradle that gave birth to my existence and it was just some hyped up Russian base- with tourist attractions! What next; history tours?

"Looks nice, da~?" That high, too soft voice comes from the figure at my side I had been trying to ignore; I don't even know why I bothered to say yes to this. Maybe he's just trying to butter up to West now that he's lost that over bloated nightmare he'd made over the years. Not too many people were willing to get friendly with him yet.

"It looks like shit. What the hell did you do to Königsberg? If you were going to tear it down, you should have taken it _all_ down!" There were familiar things here I didn't want to see in a town that was so plainly Russian; the Gates, the old Exchange- these were German- _Prussian__!_- things. They shouldn't be in some god forsaken Russian enclave that never should have _been_ theirs!

"Aah…" The tone is oddly disappointed as Ivan sighs, moving a step closer. I don't give up any of my ground; I do level a glare at him, though. I might not be a nation anymore; but I will still make him remember pissing me off the following day if he tries anything. "And here I thought you would appreciate being able to see your homeland on the eve of your birthday. I am trying to be nice, da?"

"You want 'nice'? Then give it back! Then I'll kick every one of your people's ruskie asses out and invite some of West's in." Now that would be some sweet revenge; when Germany and Prussia fell apart, they went on that 'expulsion' craze to chase them all out; I'd love to do the same right back.

"Hmm…not yet." Ivan is raising his hand then with a little shake of the finger, a broad smile stretching his lips. "You are an impatient little boy, wanting a present just a few minutes before his birthday!"

"Shut the hell up, Ivan; what would you know about my birth-" Well one thing to remember about Ivan; his arms are longer than that husky body makes them look as he slaps a gloved hand over my mouth, fingers digging into my cheeks and jaw briefly while he holds on.

Even on my strongest of days, Ivan's grip would have been hard to break. Now, I'm clawing and tugging at his hand, to no real effect.

"I looked it up. It is so interesting the things you can find now! And Germans do things in such neat, orderly stages it can be so easy to find out what you want to know. I had to read for awhile; but this finally became a kingdom on January 18th, 1701, da?" That bastard is still smiling as he pretends he's not aware of me cursing him under that hand, talking pleasantly as he goes. Finally he lets go so I can pull back, feeling bruises already forming on my jaw.

"So you can do a little research; good for you!" I start walking away from him at a double pace- yes, coming here had been a bad idea and then some. But there was one thing I wanted to see before I left. I can already guess I won't like what I see; knowing those damned Russians, they probably turned Königsberg castle into some Party building back in the day. Ivan follows a little ways behind me, just chuckling to himself.

The remaining marks of what this place used to be are all I need to find my way; or so I thought. By the time I finally let myself slow down, I have to admit to myself at least I might be lost. After all, Königsberg Castle should be right here.

Not this ugly, warped looking _thing_. What the hell….

"What the hell is _this_?" A tiny, embarrassed cough is my only answer until I turn to face him. Ivan holds his hands up as if to ward off a blow- like he'd have much to worry about- that smile of his turning positively sheepish.

"Aah- I have to admit we made a bit of a mistake. The castle had been bombed and when we tried to fix it, it sunk!" With that, he's spreading his hands out into a helpless, 'oh well!' style shrug. "We tried to fix it again but it didn't go very well, da? Heheh! I am so very sorry about that!"

He had known exactly what I was looking for and just let me go and find it. I want to scream at the bastard, to pound his face into the street we're standing on. I should have ignored that 'invitation'; West had wanted me to. But I had just had to see it for myself.

I'd take it all back some day; then I'd make him pay in spades. I was _still_ Prussia; as long as I was around, it still was and could rise up to kick ass just like it used to. I'd make it twice as strong, and take it straight into Moscow; level that god damned piece of rainbow colored shit they called the Kremlin to the ground.

"You son of a bitch…" I start to advance on the laughing Russian; Ivan doesn't look worried, however. Why should he, the more logical part of my mind is saying. I have no army and right now, this is his turf. Not mine.

Maybe it's that realization that makes my step falter. My legs suddenly feel unsteady, my stomach clenching uneasily as I try to reclaim my balance. No, something else is wrong…I'm sure of it.

Somewhere, off in the city, a clock is starting to chime. Ivan watches me a moment, then steps forward to close the distance that suddenly seems impossible to move one step further on.

_What the hell? Why can't I…_I can't even say it. The bruises Ivan left there are going numb; all of me is. He catches me as I start to collapse, smiling down as the next, drawn out chime resounds.

"Yes, I can read; I can talk to people too, da? I heard an interesting story once; about how 'Deutschland' started. Ooh, I don't mean what's in the history books of course." He taps my nose like I'm some sort of idiot brat he's giving a bedtime story to at that as he lowers me to the ground. "I heard that one day, a little boy was found wandering in lands already taken. Then someone decided to take that boy and gave him some of their lands, making the boy his little brother. It is such a sweet story, da?"

The chimes continue to toll; the third or fourth one now perhaps? I'm losing count; I'm losing everything. Feeling, sight; but I can still hear him talking. Why was it getting dark? Damned Russians weren't so cheap they didn't even bother to leave them on all night, were they?

"I heard that story and thought to myself 'Wouldn't that be nice, to have a little brother?'; I have an older sister and a younger one…but I don't have a brother." There is just the faintest, most distant of sensations; someone putting their hand on my head, I think. "I like that story; so I decided to try it! We all like fairytales that come true, da?"

Pain has begun to replace numbness with every last chime of that clock, clawing through every bone and muscle. I feel that hand that had been on my hair slip to my forehead instead, then the damp warmth of someone's breath against my ear in the January chill….

"Happy birthday~! I give you Kaliningrad, just like you wanted." The last chime strikes; if I could scream I would at the pain it brings; or maybe it would be in response to the words that chase me down into darkness as the sound of that chime fades. "I wonder what I should name you~!"

_~To Be Continued~_

For the curious: Look up Dom Sovetov to see what replaced Königsberg Castle. -I'd be pretty mad too considering what the castle looked like. However, 'local legend' calls the apparent refusal of the landscape to host a completed new building "The Revenge of the Prussians", as the cellars and tunnels of the old castle are what continue to make construction near impossible to finish.

Fun fact: Despite the age of that castle (and it was _quite_ old) the walls were thick and well built enough they survived the bombing where the necessarily weaker, interior parts of the castle did not. Despite being burned to the ground, these had to be removed the old fashioned way after the area was taken. No shock at all the caves underneath collapsed given what they had to do to even take that castle down.


	2. Chapter 2

Author: Cyhirae

Note: Still torturing Gilbert. Yay!- I mean, poor thing. This particular chapter is written completely in stream of consciousness format. For those who haven't/don't often read this format: everything is thought and sensation; there are no descriptions of things being done or actions carried out. Usually this style also runs the risk of looking like an attempt at making the biggest run on sentence known to humankind. So, I'll break that rule at least and break the lines up. No wall of text crits if I can help it.

This chapter is short; I only broke it into its own piece due to the shift in styling. Also, German is italicized, Russian is bolded and transliterated; see the footnotes for the Cyrillic.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine and the idea for this fic's precise aim is only half mine. Onward!

* * *

Cold…so cold. Why was it so cold? Nothing can be seen; so dark and cold…there is just a hollowness the cold seems to be escaping from. It claws, it bites and tears apart…

Run I have to - but…what is running? Something screams it will save me but what do I need saving from? How can I 'run'? There's nothing here to set foot on if I had feet at all. I don't. I don't have anything.

No feet, no hands- just cold. Cold and fear. Something is wrong, I know something is wrong. I shouldn't be 'here', I shouldn't! I can hear things, moving close by. Feel things though I don't know how. I have no body but hands are on me.

Holding me down, pushing me into the cold- no! NO! I don't want to go into that, it's burning and its freezing; it will kill me!

Kill? Yes…kill is something to fear; it means I will die…but what is 'die'? Fear and confusion are running wildly in circles, screaming and screaming at me over and over. Sometimes I understand one, then I understand the other, but never both.

_Laufen_..Yes, I know: run!._Ich habe zu fliehen…_I know, I know! I have to run away from this, I do…_Sterbend _…dying; how could I be dying if I didn't even know what dying was? But it frightens me, it's happening to me. Is that the cold? Is that the pain that tears at me?

_Ich sterbe_…I'm dying, still dying; how could I not die? I don't want to die! Fear is screaming at me, flailing around with limbs it doesn't have. I want to live; I don't know what that is even as the thought takes hold, but it feels warm, right.

**Zhizn'**_ …_confusion spirals around me again, nipping at the heels of fear to send me staggering in this place where I have no body, no sight. What did that word mean? It was strange but it felt warm, promising something other than what those whispers of death and fleeing promised.

But I cannot understand it; am I going to die because of that? What is it trying to tell me; how can I not die? Does that word know?

_Ich sterbe, verblassen… _I may be screaming that, maybe something else is for me. Sometimes it is just one voice; it is just one when those words come. They sound so faint, so feeble…one voice, my voice, crying into this darkness of nothing.

**Ya zhivoo, rastyet! **The voice- the voices? -that had uttered that warm, guiding word speak again. It's a roar that sweeps over me; I cannot make out the words but the feeling! So strong; so many voices speaking louder and louder; all I have to do is follow them and I will live; I will grow and…

_Nein! _Another desperate scream, but now against that warmth it seems. I want to fall into it, cling to it- but some part of me is turning away, reaching for that cold. The word…I used to know what it meant. I knew…it was a denial. But I could hardly hear it anymore. Was I hearing it right?

It doesn't matter; the word is screamed over and over and over again into this darkness, darkness that is starting to brighten as it becomes fainter. Words, other such different sounding words are filling the air around me; filling that hollow place and turning the ice to a pleasant warmth.

Life; this was life- this was **zhizn'**, living- life! The strength of those voices is filling me, drawing me up and closer to that light and warmth, away from the distant whispers of that senseless _nein_ sound; it whimpers and cries as I reach ever higher.

**Ya boodoo zhit'! **I was going to live; I _will_ live! The voices are roaring that along side me, even as other phrases are coming out of those sounds; no longer my voice speaking what they say but others as well.

Different voices, all different; laughing, crying, lying, consoling, talking- living, they're all living and they are all around me as the last echoes of that strange, foreign word dissipate, left behind. There is only this, a place I belong and strength that fills me as that cold once did.

Live- _**zhizn!**_ They chant the word to me as I go, reaching until I am blind and it feels as though I am going to simply break on the tide of voices that are taking me upward- then a new sensation. Sudden, apart from sound and light and shadow; warmth, but not from that once near dead place inside. Warmth, support; the body I had only just started to become aware of is being held.

The voices are clamoring still, but now they begin to fade as that strange sensation sweeps them away; riding the tide of a soft, happy voice intruding into the world where mine had been the only one to speak alone until now….

"Ti nye spish' yeshshye, bratishka?"

_~To Be Concluded~_

-I received a request to better explain the how and why of this chapter so to put it simply- going on the assumption there was a tie still to that land for Gilbert for this fic to even happen, he naturally was changed to suit the current inhabitants. Kaliningrad is now inhabited almost entirely by Russians or people of Russian descent and thus it would be the language one would assume an 'incarnation' of the area would naturally speak. German barely exists within its confines anymore as a language or ethnic group and so that 'side'/Gilbert was fading, with no population presence to support it/him. Hope this cleared it up for anyone else lost about this chapter!

**Further note: **I usually do not use other languages beyond a word or two ("Da", "Ja", and so forth) in my writing, but in this case the use was somewhat necessary for the effect. However, I **do not speak** either Russian or German so my grammar for them is supreme fail of truly epic proportions. If any fluent speakers of either language are willing to help me correct the lines that appear, you will have my gratitude and I will even write a short request fic for you if you want! Please PM me with the corrections and any requests.

_**German:**_

Laufen / Run

Ich habe zu fliehen / I have to run away

Sterbend / Dying

Ich sterbe, verblassen/ I'm dying, fading

Nein! / No!

_**Russian**_

Zhizn' / Жизнь / Living

Ya zhivoo, rastyet... / Я живу, растет ... / I'm living, growing...

Ya boodoo zhit'! / Я буду жить! /I am going to live!

Ti nye spish' yeshshye, bratishka? / Ты не спишь еще, братишка? / Are you awake yet, little brother?


	3. Chapter 3

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: Well now to wrap this all up. Again, a short-ish chapter; if it hadn't been for the way I wanted to write the last chapter, this would have been a very long oneshot rather than three small chapters. And I think I need to write something cute'n fluffy after this story when I get the writing urge again. Maybe something about Italy. An explanation on what even led to this idea will be in the foot notes.

'Vanya' is also a nickname for 'Ivan' for the sake of notation. No, Ivan didn't suddenly get replaced with another character. 'Serezha', in turn, is a nickname for 'Sergei'.

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mind and I'm sure Gilbert is briefly reverting back to Teutonic Knight mode to thank his God for that.

* * *

"Ah, there you see, Serezha? The uniform looks fine on you." Vanya drops his hands to my shoulders after having put the hat in place; he can say what he wants, but I'm not inclined to agree. I tug at the uniform's collar for a moment, watching him in the mirror as I do so.

"It's a little plain, don't you think, Vanya?" My brother let's out an exasperated, oddly good natured sigh as he holds up that odd water pipe he so loved to carry around. The tap is a playful one though, nearly knocking the hat he just put into place off and leaving me to scramble to set it back into place.

"Nyet! It is the perfect symbol of our way of life!" Well if he says so. _I_ still think it looks plain. Well maybe if I could get a few medals somehow to make it look a little less…well…_dull_. "It works very well for the 'special officer' of Kaliningrad."

"Alright, alright; I give! Just put the pipe away, will you?" He isn't looking entirely satisfied with my 'surrender', but he finally just clucks his tongue and shakes his head with a strangely forced seeming tolerance.

"You are still learning, so it is forgivable, da? You are doing very well for someone only a day old." Was I that 'young'? I had to be; Vanya had found me out by the Dom Sovetov yesterday…but I didn't feel like I was as young as all that.

He said it was from being what we are; we simply knew things as we needed to know them for getting by in the world. It sounds a little too convenient to me, but he would know, wouldn't he? I take a moment to turn back to the mirror; I didn't look young; Vanya looked younger than me.

"Well I'm not going to argue that point; so we're part of the Empire of Russia?" I try not to grin at the expression that gets me in his reflection. It's not the first time I'd called it that since he had found me; and every time he had painfully gone through and explained that no, it was a federation. There were no empires anymore.

"Serezha~" The tone is peculiarly sing song as Vanya leans forward suddenly; a dark scarf in his hands that he abruptly drops around my shoulders and wraps tightly. A little more so than I'd call comfortable, actually, as he smiles. "I thought this would look nice on you; and you will need it when we arrive at my house in the Russian _Federation_, da? It is very, very cold there in January~! Very warm, isn't it?"

"Gah- d-da! Very warm, V-vanya- but if you don't loosen it up-!" He lets out a soft little giggle, of all things, and lets the scarf loosen so I can tug it to a more comfortable loop. We both turn toward the mirror again; to me, we don't really look like brothers.

Vanya is tall and broad; his skin is winter pale and reddened at points from the cold he warned me about and his hair is a pale blond mop. His eyes are a shade of purple, really rather doe-like if you didn't know he carried a metal pipe he could probably cave a wall in with.

Next to him, I look positively frail. My skin isn't 'winter pale', it's a near dead white, with hair more gray than white to top it off. The only thing even remotely the same are our eyes; though mine are more red than any purple hue. Still there's a trace of it in there.

"Hmm…you look concerned, Serezha. What is on your mind?" He continues to watch me study the both of us in the mirror, easy smile still in place as he rests his hands on my shoulders again. "Or shall I guess~?"

"It's nothing, Vanya. Just…getting used to things I guess." Those hands abruptly slip around as he pulls me back into an almost smothering hug, resting his cheek against my head as the hat finally gives up trying to stay into place. It topples to the ground as Vanya seems to wait for something- then smiles. I can just barely catch it in the mirror's reflection. It isn't like his usual, almost idiotically happy ones; it's chill and victorious, in some way, though gone so quickly….

I must have imagined it.

"You don't need to worry so, Serezha. When you see your eldest sister finally, you will know just how well you fit in, da~? She looks much like you." He finally pulls back and lets me stand properly on my own then, turning me to look me over one last time. "Now finish getting ready to go; we will be going to my house tonight; I have plenty of room! I will go pack my things while you finish here."

Vanya rests the pipe against his shoulder and steps into the next room; his, I suppose. I haven't been out of this room since he'd brought me here from where he'd found me. I had looked out the window a few times, but he had wanted me to stay inside.

'You are still weak; rest!' was what he had said. Well I guess if a long trip was ahead, he had a point. From everything he showed me on a map- not that I could make much sense of the distances yet- Russia was a pretty big place. I had to wonder how long it would take us to reach his house.

I start getting what scant items I have together; at only a day old, it isn't as if I owned a lot. Vanya had stated I'd been wearing little better than rags when he had found me; perhaps some poor person's attempt at taking pity on someone who looked even worse off.

Da, I had really appreciated _that _comparison.

I kneel down to collect the last item; the hat that had been knocked aside when Ivan had decided to 'reassure' me had slid under the bed. I lean on the bunk, hand bumping against the fabric as I try to snare the damn thing- but my fingers then touch on something cool and metallic instead. I blink and drag it out, the hat caught on it as well.

A black, equal armed cross on a silver chain. I hold it up into the light; there's some filigree and engravings, though they don't make the least bit of sense to me. Still, there was just something about it….

"Hm? Serezha, what is it you've found?" Vanya has come back in with his bag, eyes locking almost immediately on the cross dangling from my hand. And the look in those eyes has me wishing I had left it under the bed.

Whatever this is, it isn't anything good. That much is obvious.

"Ah, just some junk that was under the bed!" No way was I going to let him think it was somehow mine when he was looking ready to crush it with his bare hands! "The last person in here must've left it, Vanya."

To emphasize the point, I toss the cross away from me to take up a new residence in the trash can by the window as Vanya starts to close the distance between us. He pauses as it clinks against the metallic side of the can, then smiles. It's a warmer one than any he's worn yet, completely banishing away that cold, hateful stare he had suddenly had.

"Indeed; just some junk. We will have to write to tell the hotel staff to better clean the rooms from now on, da?" He gestures then to the door, smile still in place as he speaks. "The car is waiting; it is time for us to be on our way." I follow him out, though as I turn to close the door behind us, my eyes settle again on that trash can, thinking of what now sat among its contents. Something about it was refusing to leave me be…then the door is closed between me and it. Putting it out of my mind, I turn to follow Vanya to the car, though a sudden sound catches my attention briefly. It's faint and nonsensical, but….

"Vanya? Did you hear something?"

"Eh?" The taller man stops on the stairs, looking back up at me a moment, then shaking his head curiously. "Nothing at all, Serezha. Is something else bothering you?" The tone is tolerant- very much the elder brother aware he has an inexperienced, jumpy little brother.

Like hell I was going to embarrass myself any further now.

"Ah, it's nothing. Let's go." Suddenly this hotel feels a bit strange; almost creepy. When I came back to Kaliningrad after a stay with Vanya, I was going to give that place wide berth. I can still see it in the car mirrors as we're driven away; Vanya appears oblivious to me watching it as it slowly vanishes out of sight down the road. Before it disappears completely though, I'm willing to swear I heard that cry again; distant, despairing and weak though it is.

…_Nein…_

_~End~_

Afterward: Now for a little explanation of where this strange idea came from.

1) Pondering on that Gilbert/Prussia is even still around.

2) Noting Kaliningrad is an enclave akin to Hong Kong but has no representative.

3) Pondered what would happen if a 'dead' nation were on it's native soil when the time of its initial birth rolled around if there was indeed still a connection that was being denied.

-Add evil and some crack, mix well and we have two results: the evil plottings me and Lumineux had and then of course this fanfic (which takes many of the same core elements but none of the actual plot of our ponderings; that's for something else entirely). Ivan also looked rather happy up there because despite what a lot of fanficcers and fanartists would like to think- we all know what would have happened if he'd glomped on to _Gilbert_ like that. Knuckle-assisted dental work.

Hope you enjoyed the strangeness; I'm afraid there likely won't be any further fics about Sergei!Gilbert, however. I try not to use OCs too often- let alone as 'mains' - and Sergei is technically that, for all he still shows the base personality traits of Gilbert. Now to go write something cute after all that.


End file.
